


Regulars

by whatsherquirk



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Reader, Businessman Erwin, CEO Erwin Smith, Coffeeshop AU, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Janitor Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Meet-Cute, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsherquirk/pseuds/whatsherquirk
Summary: The bell above the door jingles, and you don’t even look up, lost in your daydream of two weeks off and a trip to anywhere. It isn’t until Petra, who’s opening with you this Monday morning, nudges you with her elbow that you lift your eyes from the platters of scones and cookies under you.“Ook-lay what just walked in-way,” she says in pig latin instead of just whispering like a normal person. You elbow her back for being so obvious as you lift your chin from the glass, but your mouth pops open when you catch sight of the man approaching the counter—a drop-dead gorgeous man.-You're a barista at Scout Coffee, trying to figure out what you want to do with your life. Maybe this is it, maybe it's not. Or maybe Erwin, your newest regular customer, can help you figure it out, if you can stop thinking about him, that is.
Relationships: Erwin Smith/Reader
Comments: 42
Kudos: 280





	Regulars

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written as a secret santa gift for my dear friend @present-mel and published first on my tumblr @whats-her-quirk. We love coffeeshop AUs and we love the commander.

With a soapy rag draped over your hand, you wash off the tables in the coffeeshop just like you did the day before. You clean mugs and teacups, pour cups of black coffee and whip up iced mochas, take money and give change, all just like yesterday and the yesterday before that. Even as the morning rush is about to really start, today will be more of the same.

You’ve been working at Scout Coffee for close to four years since you graduated from the university a few miles away. Unfortunately, choosing a major had been a struggle for you, and your Bachelor of Science hadn’t led to any promising job prospects that didn’t come with huge drawbacks—shitty hours, shitty pay, shitty bosses, the lot. So instead of sitting in a call center or manning the front desk of some office building all day, you landed at the coffeeshop, which turned out to be a pretty decent place to land.

You like being a barista; you really do. You enjoy learning to make different coffees and breakfast sandwiches (your friends are very impressed with the way you froth milk for them, even at home). You enjoy the hip atmosphere of Scout, with its mismatched tables and walls covered in vintage posters. You love picking the music that pumps quietly through the speakers just above the counter. And you even enjoy making conversation with customers, many of which are regulars you know by name at this point. You feel comfortable here, and you’ve become close with many of your coworkers.

Still, you’re getting a little bored, a little restless. You’re perfectly happy, but the monotony of spending 40-plus hours per week within the same four walls is starting to get old. Your life is a cycle of work, reading, video games, and sleep. You meet up with your friends weekly for DND, but lately, you haven’t felt up to much more socializing than that. Between your bills and student loans, you can’t afford the vacation you desperately need, so instead, you lean your elbows on top of the dessert case and sigh, wishing something interesting would happen—something to shake things up a little bit.

The bell above the door jingles, and you don’t even look up, lost in your daydream of two weeks off and a trip to anywhere. It isn’t until Petra, who’s opening with you this Monday morning, nudges you with her elbow that you lift your eyes from the platters of scones and cookies under you.

“Ook-lay what just walked in-way,” she says in pig latin instead of just whispering like a normal person. You elbow her back for being so obvious as you lift your chin from the glass, but your mouth pops open when you catch sight of the man approaching the counter—a drop-dead gorgeous man.

He’s at least six feet tall, broad-shouldered and fair-skinned. He’s dressed in an expensive-looking blue suit with a tie, and his blonde undercut is styled flawlessly. His face is so perfect you barely even register what he looks like; you just know he’s too pretty to look directly in the eye. As he steps up to the register to put in his order, your feet feel like they’re superglued to the floor. Petra takes his order for a Colombian dark roast coffee you currently have available. He pays with a black credit card, which she swipes through the terminal while you stare. He adds a 20% tip on the touchpad even though he only ordered a single coffee.

Not only is this guy incredibly handsome in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, but more importantly, you’ve never seen him before. You start to wonder whether you manifested him by pure thought as Petra hands him his receipt and assures him that his drink will be out in just a few minutes.

He takes a seat at an empty table by the window as Petra grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you back into consciousness. “Hurry up and pour his drink. We can’t keep a guy that hot waiting!”

You force yourself to blink before fumbling for a coffee mug and pouring him a steaming cup of the dark roast from the coffee urn. Your hands shake dangerously, clinking the saucer under the mug embarrassingly as you deliver it to his table. He looks up, smiling closed lipped yet warmly when you set it in front of him. His eyes are so blue, they practically sparkle in the sunlight from the window. Sparkle.

As he looks at you expectantly, you manage to choke out, “Uh, s-sugar and honey and stuff are over there.” You point toward the little side counter where you keep the sweeteners and napkins.

The man lifts the mug toward his mouth by the handle. “Thank you.” He blows at the steam wafting off the hot coffee, his eyes flicking down into the mug, platinum eyelashes fluttering slightly. He takes an experimental sip, testing the flavor, before pushing back his chair and getting up. “I think I’ll take you up on that sugar and honey.”

You nod and swallow what feels like a ball of tin foil caught in your throat. He grins at you before carefully taking his mug over to the sweeteners. As soon as his back is turned, you rush back behind the counter. Petra is waiting for you with a huge smile on her face. You mouth to her, “Oh my god.”

“I know,” she gushes because she does know exactly what you’re thinking. “Holy shit, that might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He looks like a Greek god. I just wanna tackle him.”

“You’re in a relationship,” you remind her.

“Yes, but if I weren’t, I’m telling you I’d climb that like a tree. But since I can’t, you have to.”

You cackle so hard and so suddenly you almost fall over. You? Have a chance with that guy? “Good one.”

She pouts, leaning her back on the dessert case so you can just see the customer behind her. He’s pulled a book out of his leather messenger bag and reads it while he sips his coffee. Your heart does a flip. “I’m serious. You haven’t dated anyone in how long again?”

You don’t even want to say, so you ignore the question. “Look, you can tell by the way he’s dressed that he doesn’t even work in this part of town. After today, we’ll probably never see him again. So let’s just enjoy the view while it lasts and then forget this ever happened, hm?” You say it lightly, cheekily, teasing Petra until she rolls her eyes and returns to the register to help the next customer as a line starts to form.

Forgetting, however, proves impossible. Even as you’re dashing back and forth for ingredients, making multiple drinks at a time to try and move the line along, you can’t stop glancing over at the blonde man sitting in the window. He sits comfortably but with perfect posture, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, occasionally flipping a page in his paperback or taking a drink from his mug. With every spare second, you catch yourself looking at him, scrutinizing his face like it’s a marble statue in a museum.

After an hour, during which you mess up at least three different drinks and have to remake them, you finally figure out what it is that makes him so remarkable. All of his features are strong: heavy brows over large cerulean eyes, sharp aquiline nose with a prominent bridge, pale but pouty lips, especially for a man, and a jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass. They’re all dominant, not just one. On most people, this would be too much, too overwhelming. But on him, his frame, his projected aura of easy confidence, it’s so perfect it hurts if you think about it for long enough.

And when he rises from his seat, places his mug in the wash bin by the trash cans, and walks out the door with his book under his arm, that hurts too. You miss him as soon as he’s gone, which is insane, because you don’t even know his name. You spend the rest of the day in mourning, trying to coax yourself into accepting that you won’t be seeing him again.

It’s all for nothing, though, because around the same time the next morning, he walks in and orders another cup of the same Colombian dark roast.

Petra can’t stop smiling wolfishly at you, but you do your best to hide from her. On one hand, you’re in shock that he came back at all. On the other hand, you’re panicking. If he’s about to become a new regular, you have no idea how you’re going to handle it.

He chooses the same table in the window, which just so happens to be open again. This time, when you deliver his hot mug of coffee, you exchange nothing more than a friendly nod for his polite thanks.

While you whip up double lattes, you notice that he’s still working through the same paperback, albeit much closer to the end than he was yesterday. You crane your neck to try and see the cover, but he has it folded back under his hand in a way that would make you cringe if he didn’t look so damn gorgeous doing it. There’s concentration written in his brows, like he’s completely immersed in the story despite the noise and bustle of the morning rush.

With the breakfast crowd served and happy, you busy yourself bussing tables. You linger near the window, scrubbing the sticky coffee rings off the table next to the blonde. Don’t people know you give them saucers for a reason? Still, you take your time, allowing yourself to glance up at him a few times, admiring the way his angular profile eclipses the morning sun. You don’t realize you’re staring until he looks up from his page for a sip of his drink, catching your gaze with a smirk over the lip of his mug. You inhale sharply through your nose and avert your eyes, mortified that he caught you looking at him. As soon as the table is clean, you make a beeline back to the counter and restock the dessert case in shame.

He polishes off his coffee and the book at almost the same time. Then he busses his own table again, as if you’re not half in love with him already. On his way to the door, he tosses a long glance over his shoulder, and you feel your cheeks heat and flush. As much as you want to watch him leave, you have to look away, coy and embarrassed. You’re being way too obvious, and he’s catching on.

Once your shift is over, you run a few errands, cook some noodles for dinner, and spend the evening playing a hack and slash RPG to take your mind off the beautiful stranger. You resolve that if he comes back again, you’ll stop obsessing. He’s just a customer who happens to be as kind as he is gorgeous, but that doesn’t mean you can act like a fucking teenager. You’re an adult, for christ’s sake. You need to get a grip.  
\---

Wednesday is Petra’s day off, so the next morning, you’re manning the counter with Moblit, who is sweet but quiet and tends to focus on his work. It would make for a peaceful morning if Levi wasn’t seated at the end of the bar top opposite the counter, complaining.

Levi works the night shift at the hospital, heading up the janitorial staff, and has been coming into the coffee shop since before you even worked there. He’s as much of a fixture in the shop as any of your coworkers. He knows everyone, making him overly blunt and familiar, and he’s always exhausted. He’s also dating Petra, which you aren’t sure how they manage since their schedules and personalities are so opposite. Levi is all doom and gloom while Petra is an energetic ray of sunshine, but hey. They complete each other.

Levi is in rare form this morning, slumped forward on his stool, elbows on the counter and one hand curled like a claw over the top of his teacup. He came straight from work, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to his long, overnight shift. Poor Moblit looks terrified as Levi traps him with his horror stories of all the bodily fluids he had to clean up the night before. 

Normally, you’d tap Moblit out, knowing Levi will get pissy if someone doesn’t listen to him, and you’re actually grossly fascinated by his stories from the hospital, if you’re being honest. When you confessed to him that you might want to work in the medical field someday, he gave you what advice he could. Though it didn’t end up changing your employment situation, the two of you grew closer in the process as Levi stepped into the role of the wise older brother figure.

Moblit looks like he wants your help, but today, you’re sticking to the register, watching the door like a hawk to see if a certain tall blonde is going to walk in.

Your resolve to stop obsessing was crushed the moment you woke up from a literal dream about the mystery man. It was nothing overtly sexual, but you dreamt that you were lying on a picnic blanket in the park, and he was feeding you strawberries and reading aloud to you from another worn paperback. The ache in your chest when you awoke was crushing, the scene fading into the abyss of sleep before you could really wrap your head around it. While it wasn’t out of the ordinary for some of your customers to appear in your dreams, you’d never dreamt about one in such a romantic fashion before.

But what did it mean? How could you tell the difference between pure infatuation and love at first sight? And were you crazy for even considering it?

“Hey, moron, you’re staring,” Levi deadpans from the other end of the counter. You shake your head, refocusing your eyes on him instead of the door. When you look his way, Levi lifts his mug, signaling that he’s ready for a refill.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shuffling to grab the pot of Earl Grey you made for him, knowing he’d drink three or four cups before heading out.

“What’s up with you?” he asks once his cup is full again.

“Oh nothing, nothing,” you reply, breathy and dismissive.

“Bullshit. Something’s up and I know it. Now spill.” He narrows his eyes at you over the top of his mug as he takes a long sip. His gaze is so pointed, you’re ready to break down and confess everything about your silly crush.

“It’s just—”

The bell on the door jingles as you’re setting down the teapot, and you look up so quickly that tea sloshes out onto the floor. It’s him.

“What?” Levi groans, looking over his shoulder at the stranger approaching from behind. You ignore him completely, smoothing down your apron and situating yourself in a way that you hope looks casual behind the cash register. You also hope that Levi doesn’t say anything embarrassing, but you’re not holding your breath, because his people skills are not the best.

The blonde smiles when he sees you at the register, and you swear you can feel your heart flip over inside your chest. “Hello again,” he greets in that lovely baritone of his. Meanwhile, your throat feels dry and sticky.

“Uh, hi again,” you echo, unable to find your own words. Your mouth is open, and you were hoping this would go better without Petra there, but alarm bells are ringing in your brain. You’re panicking. You finally squeak out, “So, the usual?” You wish it was a full sentence, but at least it’s a coherent thought.

He chuckles, perhaps delighted that you remember, but oh, how could you ever forget? He opens his wallet and replies, “Seems I’m becoming a regular.”

“Mmhmm.” The sound reverberates behind your closed lips as you punch in his order and swipe his card through the reader. Stupid, stupid, you curse yourself mentally, but you can’t find the right words when his face is distracting you. You hand the card back and mercifully, he speaks before you can.

“I can just wait here while you pour it. You don’t have to carry it all the way over to me.”

Your cheeks burn, flustered by his willingness to oblige. If only he were an asshole, then you wouldn’t care that he was so damn handsome.

You turn your back and pour the dark roast into a mug, place a saucer and spoon underneath, and set it down on the counter in front of him. “Thanks,” he says with a simple grin before heading off to add his sugar and honey. Your heart is pounding by the time he walks away, and you press a shaking hand to your chest, hoping to calm it. Too bad you don’t have time to before Levi chimes in.

“Wow, that was almost painful.” By the time you whip your head around to glare at him, he’s already looking straight down into his tea as he takes another sip.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” For all their differences, Levi is about as subtle as Petra, which isn’t saying much. You just hope he keeps the volume down, whatever he’s going to say.

Levi shrugs as he sets down his drink. “So, you like that guy?”

You fiddle with your hands. It’s not worth lying to him at this point, he already knows. “So it’s that obvious?”

“Tch.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean I guess I’d be surprised if you weren’t. He’s hot.”

“Oh my god. First Petra and now you.”

“I can’t blame her, really.” He’s so matter of fact, it makes you wonder if he’s ever been jealous, ever felt insecure when it comes to his love life. Probably not. With Levi, what you see is exactly what you get.

With a defeated sigh, your head and elbows spill onto the counter in front of him. There’s something about his nonchalance that makes everything come tumbling out of you. “He came in for the first time on Monday, and I haven’t stopped thinking about him since. But I don’t have a chance in hell, do I?”

Levi swallows the last of his tea. “I didn’t say that. Why wouldn’t you have a chance?”

You lift your head, resting your chin in your hands as your eyes wander toward the window. “You saw him. He’s obviously got his shit together, while I definitely do not. And he’s gotta be, what, ten years older than me?” You peel your eyes away, instead surveying the bottles of various flavors of coffee syrup lined up along the wall behind you.

Levi scoffs, then taps you on the arm. You don’t want to face him, but you do. He leans forward, looking you sternly in the eye. “You’re nervous because you don’t know anything about him. You’re idealizing him in your head before you get to know him. Once you break the ice, you’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say, mister no-filter.”

“Hey, I was nervous to ask Petra out the first time. And look how it worked out for me.”

“Yeah, but she’d also been dying for you to ask her out for weeks. And y'all were practically already in love anyway. You knew it was reciprocated.”

“Did you see the way he smiled at you? It’s reciprocated.”

“Fat chance.”

Levi clinks his cup against the counter. “You’ll regret it if you don’t at least try. Just wait a while, then carry a coffee pot over there and ask if he wants a refill. That’s your in. Then ask him about what he’s reading, and you’re golden.”

“I don’t know.” It feels weird taking dating advice from Levi of all people, but you have to admit, he swooped up Petra without a hitch. You shrink into yourself, wrapping your arms around your middle before chancing another peek at the window. He’s reading a different paperback today, you can tell by the size of it. You still can’t see the cover though.

“Hey.” Levi’s voice is a little softer this time, and that catches your attention more than anything. “If you can talk to a scary motherfucker like me, you sure as hell can talk to a guy as nice as him.”

That, you can’t help but smirk at. You punch him halfheartedly in the shoulder. “You’re not as scary as you think.” The eye roll it earns you is incredibly gratifying.

After about twenty minutes, and a little more ribbing from Levi, you fill a handheld coffee pot from the urn of dark roast. No one is waiting at the counter, and Moblit’s on standby in case someone comes in. It’s slow for a Wednesday, and your instrumental playlist is drifting calmly from the overhead speakers. Inside, you’re a hurricane, but you’re going to do this because if nothing else, Levi will never let you forget it if you don’t.

You carry the half-full pot of coffee carefully toward the blonde, rehearsing your line in your head. As you approach him, he looks up from his book, and you promptly forget what you were going to say. You raise the coffee pot to indicate your intent. “Uh, can I warm you up?” He raises an eyebrow. “Your coffee,” you correct hastily. “Can I warm your drink up?”

“Sure.” He shifts the book to his left hand, tucking his thumb inside to mark the page. With his right hand, he lifts his mug by the handle.

You don’t know how it happens. You reach out to pour the piping hot liquid into his mug, but when the plastic lip of the pot touches ceramic, something shifts, and there’s coffee splashing and glass breaking and his chair scraping against the floor as he stands up. There’s a dark coffee stain right on the knee of his tan dress pants, and you wish you could just crawl into a hole and die.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Oh shit. Let me get you some towels.” You probably shouldn’t be cursing in front of a customer you just spilled hot coffee on, but your mouth is moving faster than your brain. You rush back behind the counter as fast as you can without spilling the rest of the coffee on yourself. Moblit is waiting with a roll of paper towels, but you quickly wet a clean washrag in the sink because god damnit, you probably burned him.

You run back to his table, where he’s still standing, surrounded by a puddle of dark roast and the smashed pieces of his mug. He has his hands up like he doesn’t know what to do with them. You feel like you’re going to cry. No, scratch that, you are crying. Horrifically embarrassed, you sniffle as you hold out the wet cloth. “Here, this is cold, for your leg. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry.” You need to stop cursing but you can’t.

You hardly look at him, barely register when he takes the cloth from your hand. You run back for the broom and dustpan, which you snatch from Moblit’s hands, bless his heart. You sweep up the broken glass in a hurry before anyone gets hurt. Oh lord.

“Are you hurt? Did the glass cut you?” This is it. This guy is going to need stitches and he’s gonna sue Scout Coffee for sending him to the ER and ruining his expensive suit. They’re gonna fire you, and you’re going to lose your apartment, and—

He’s laughing. You look up from your broom and dustpan to see that the handsome blonde guy is chuckling to himself. “No, no, I’m fine, really. I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

So he’s not bleeding. “But your leg,” you begin, but he stops you, sounding almost frustrated with himself.

“It wasn’t that hot; it was just what was already cooling off in the mug. But thank you. I’m really sorry for all the trouble.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, dumbstruck, before you sweep the rest of the glass into the dustpan. “No, it was my fault, I’m sorry.”

He sits down again, dabbing at his pant leg with his left hand while he wiggles the fingers of his right at you. “No, I wasn’t thinking. I hurt my elbow playing tennis years ago, and the nerve damage that acts up sometimes. I’ll completely lose feeling in that hand once in a while, and when it goes numb, I drop things. I should have known better than to hold the mug with one hand, but I didn’t have a bookmark. Stupid of me.”

There’s a lightness to his tone, a jovial self-deprecation that you know he’s putting on to try and cheer you up. But his story is just odd enough that you’re inclined to believe it.

“O-ok. Just give me one sec.” You scurry away to dispose of the broken mug. You pour him another dark roast in a paper to-go cup, add sugar and honey, and bring it back to him along with the roll of paper towels for the rest of the mess.

“Here,” you say, setting the cup down before mopping up the wet floor. Thankfully, the commotion has died down a bit, and people have stopped staring. “And I’ll refund the first cup from your card. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s really ok. I’m just clumsy. Promise.” He turns his wrist a few times and flexes his fingers before extending his hand out to you.

You look at the wad of wet paper towels dripping down your arm and back at him. “Um.” You offer your left hand instead. He chuckles again and you shake left hands, his long, thick fingers dwarfing yours. Closer now than before, you notice for the first time the hint of a few fine lines around his eyes and forehead, the ghosts of many smiles shared over the years.

He nods. “I’m Erwin, by the way.” You offer your name, and he gives your hand a slight squeeze before letting go. Then he gathers his things and tips his paper cup to you. “Thanks for the warm-up.”

Hiding the blush on your cheeks, you walk away to dispose of the paper towels, finding it hard to turn away from Erwin. Levi was right; you were putting this guy on a pedestal in your head. He’s just a guy, not some god. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t still head over heels for him.

Oh no. Levi.

His hands are crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side. “So, how’d it go?” he asks too loudly. You shush him.

“You saw how it went.”

“Yeah. He likes you though.”

“No, he doesn’t.” The realization leaves you a little hollow inside. “I spilled coffee on him. He’s just being nice.”

Levi’s eyes flick over to the register. You follow his gaze to catch Erwin dropping a five-dollar bill—more than enough to cover the coffee you were about to refund—into the tip jar before turning toward the door.

“Yeah,” Levi drawls, leaning back in his seat. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

You turn around so Levi doesn’t see you smile.  
\--  
Thursday is your day off. You wake up at a leisurely time, find something to eat, and watch a few episodes of the show you’ve been binging before getting ready for the day. You run your errands for the week, but even long lines at the bank can’t get you down today.

That evening after DND, you tell your friends about the coffee incident. When someone asks you if the guy was cute, you think of Erwin’s smile and answer yes.  
\--  
On Friday, Erwin sees you before you see him. You have your finger on the nozzle of a can of whipped cream, and you’re just finishing off the iced frap you’re making when a shadow falls over the counter in front of you. You swirl the top of the whipped cream before you look up, and there he is.

“Hi.” You’re sure it sounds stupid, but he caught you off guard. Though you can’t say you’re unhappy to see him, not at all. As you let off the tip of the spray can, a bit of whipped cream drips off onto your pointer finger. Without thinking, you raise it to your mouth and lick it off.

Erwin’s clear blue eyes flick down to your mouth and back up to your face. He clears his throat before speaking. “Hi. I uh, missed seeing you here yesterday.”

Realizing that you just put your finger in your mouth, you lean over to the sink to wash your hands. It’s a good thing, because you can feel your face heating up. It happens with some regulars, you remind yourself. They like routine; they like the same person telling them good morning and pouring their coffee every day. But when Erwin says he missed you… you’re not sure how to read it.

You laugh it off because it seems like the only choice. “Yeah, Thursday’s my day off.” He doesn’t seem like the stalkery type, the kind of customer that you shouldn’t tell what shifts you work or what time you get off. Petra had one of those follow her out to her car once, some silver-haired guy that she had to get a restraining order for even after Levi threatened to beat his face in. But you could all tell that guy was going to be an issue as soon as he walked in. Erwin gives off no such vibes. 

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it,” he answers sincerely. 

“Thanks.” A moment of awkward silence passes between you before you think to ask, “Oh, do you want a cup of the Colombian?”

“Yes, please.”

Instead of taking the coffee to his usual table, which is clean and open, Erwin sits down at the bar top across from the prep counter. He doesn’t pull out a book, either, and the heat around your collar begins to rise. People only sit at the counter if they want to chat, and you’re flattered and flustered by it all at once. To distract yourself, you wipe down the counter again. 

“So,” you start casually, remembering what Levi said about Erwin being just a person, “I hope you didn’t have any big meetings the other day after I spilled that coffee all over you.”

Erwin chuckles. “When I spilled the coffee?” You get the sense that this is going to be a point of contention for a while. “Actually, I did, but I keep spare clothes in my office because, like I said, clumsy.” He motions to himself, and though you still have trouble believing someone as chiseled and poised as Erwin could be considered clumsy in general, you have to imagine he’s spent a long time dealing with that old injury of his. 

“Does your office have, like, a walk-in closet?” Yes, you’ve noticed over the past week that Erwin’s suits are always neatly pressed, like he gets them dry cleaned. He wears very expensive shoes, and a big silver watch. That’s not a cheap haircut either. Not like you’d ask him directly, but it’s driving you crazy wondering exactly what he does for a living.

Erwin shakes his head as he takes a sip of dark roast. “No, just a regular closet. It does have a pretty great view of downtown, though.”

“Oh yeah? Must be nice having a big, fancy office all to yourself.” You squeeze your lips together. That might have been a little forward of you. Reign it in, tiger.

Erwin remains unphased, though. He actually sounds a little dejected when he says, “Yeah, the view is one of the best parts of the job.”

This makes you quirk an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Erwin chuckles. “I’m being a bit dramatic. It’s not so bad.”

You can’t stand beating around the bush anymore. “So where do you work?”

“Stohess Ad Agency. You’ve probably seen the building, it’s the tower with the bank logo on the top.”

You drop your rag into the sink. When he mentioned the view, you weren’t exactly sure he meant ‘skyscraper,’ but it all seems to add up. “So, you write ads? Any I’ve seen?”

Erwin runs one palm over the back of his neck before wrapping both hands around his steaming coffee mug. His fingers interlock as he lifts it toward his mouth with both hands. “I don’t write them anymore, really.”

You drop a hand on your hip. “So you’re, what, an executive?” You’re not even completely sure you’re using that word right, but you’re pretty it means one of the higher-ups.

Erwin hides his mouth behind the mug as he answers. “CEO,” he says simply, casting his eyes down, away from your face. His voice is quiet, but a smirk plays at the corner of his lip.

You’d be ashamed to admit it, but those three letters go straight between your legs. The power, the authority--it’s very much a turn on. You can imagine him behind a giant desk with his feet up, talking on the phone about getting some reports on his desk first thing in the morning. You also shamefully think about him drawing the venetian blinds closed on the windows of his corner office and bending you over that desk. But you’re getting way, way too ahead of yourself, mainly because Erwin falls silent after that, taking tiny sips of his coffee as his eyes linger anywhere but your face.

You lean your elbows on the counter you just cleaned, meaning you’ll have to wipe it down again, but it brings you below eye level with Erwin, who turns to look down the slope of his nose at you. You grin and ask, hoping to ease whatever this tension might be, “So, is it like Mad Men?”

Erwin cracks, eyes crinkling slightly as he shows his perfect teeth in a smile. He shakes his head. “Not really.”

The conversation meanders as an hour passes. Erwin waits patiently as you help other customers, always ready to pick back up where you left off when you come back. The two you settle into an easy flow of questions and answers, learning little details about each other along the way. You find out that he recently moved to a house in the suburbs, which made his commute to work longer but makes Scout Coffee the easiest play to stop for his morning pick me up on the way.

“Why the move, then?”

Erwin shrugs. “I was tired of my apartment. I don’t mind driving; the car is where I do my best thinking. Plus, I wanted more room for Daisy.”

Your stomach drops. “Daisy?” His wife? No, doesn’t wear a ring. His daughter, maybe?

Erwin reaches for his phone and taps a few times before sliding it across the counter to you. A photo of him and the happiest looking golden retriever you’ve ever seen waits on the screen, and you audibly gasp. This might be the most attractive thing about him yet.

“Oh my gosh, she’s beautiful. How old?”

Erwin takes his phone back and stares at the picture for a moment before sliding it back in his pocket. “She’s six. I rescued her as a puppy right around when I got promoted to VP,” he muses to himself, marking the time in his mind.

“Well, I’m sure she likes the extra room to run around.” Erwin agrees.

You don’t want to pry, but he makes it sound like he moved up the corporate ladder so quickly. It’s a world you understand so little about, never having worked in an office setting. The politics of it all, clawing your way to the top of a big company like that, it’s weirdly fascinating to you. You want to ask more about it, but you don’t want to come across like you’re trying to grill him. You decide to drop it for now, but you don’t want this to end. “Refill?”

“Please,” he says, but he catches sight of his watch as he holds out his mug. “Oh, wow. It’s already 9:00. I should actually get going.”

“I’ll make it to-go.” You’re careful to set the paper cup and sleeve down on the counter instead of passing it to him in the air. Just to be safe. 

Erwin gathers his stuff, and you take a moment to appreciate the way the sleeves of his plaid button down are rolled up over his forearms. He’s still wearing khakis and a tie, but it must be casual Friday.

“So, I’m not sure if I’ll make it in this weekend, but…” Erwin lingers at the counter, coffee in hand.

You can’t hide your grin if you wanted to. “See you on Monday. Now go before you’re late!” You wave a nearby hand towel at him, and he laughs.

“I’m already a little late,” he confesses, “but I’m the boss. I can spare a few more minutes for coffee in the morning.” He takes a deep breath, like he wants to say something else, but then he just nods. “See you on Monday.”

He must not think you’re looking when he drops a couple bucks into the tip jar on his way out.  
\--  
The weekend passes much too slowly. You spend a lot of it reading, some of it working on your next CNC character, and the rest of it texting Petra and Levi.

Levi: He was late to work because he was talking to you. Oh yeah, you’re in.

Petra: HE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKES YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

You’re embarrassed but so giddy that you don’t even tell them to stop.  
\--  
On Monday, Erwin comes in a little later than usual. He misses the rush, so you pour yourself a coffee along with his. He’s dressed to perfection in a sleek, black suit, but his eyes look tired. Still, they light up when he sees you.

“Good morning,” he says in a half-sigh.

“Good morning,” you say. “The usual? Or can I interest you in a blonde roast?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Blonde has more caffeine.”

“Give me the blonde.”

This tired, almost defeated Erwin is something you’ve never seen before, never even imagined, really. He even lets his forehead drop heavily onto the bar top after he sits down. But he’s still here; he still came to get his coffee, and hopefully to see you. You spent all weekend looking forward to seeing him again, and not even his change in mood is enough to put you off. Instead, you look for ways to help.

You add the sugar and honey to his coffee for him and place it on the bar top next to his outstretched hand. “Rise and shine,” you tease lightly, hoping to ease his mood a little. Erwin lifts his head, and though he closes his eyes and massages the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger, a sleepy smile spreads across his lips.

“Thank you,” he says so sincerely, it could make you melt on the spot. As he takes his first sip, you can’t help but imagine him, in pajamas and with his hair a mess, drinking his morning coffee across from you at a spotless kitchen island. It’s a daydream you need to tuck away for later, though.

“Of course. So, what’s up?”

Erwin tells you he was up late the night before, looking over some spreadsheets that one of his employees sent in incredibly late. It’s something to do with financials, far above your understanding of how corporate business works, but mercifully, he only gives you the CliffsNotes version of it. He’s typically good about getting enough sleep, he tells you, but this morning, he’s running on only a few hours, plus he had to take Daisy on a walk, and get ready for a meeting with the board of directors that morning.

“So, you’re the boss, but they’re like, your bosses?”

“Essentially, yes.” Erwin downs the rest of his blonde roast. You refill him without even asking. “So, the caffeine is desperately needed today.”

“I hope it goes well. I’m sure you’ll dazzle them with your… statistics or whatever.”

Erwin smiles gratefully. “Thank you. The quarterly reports look good, which helps make me look good in their eyes. Enough about me, though. How was your weekend?”

“You have time to stay and talk?” You want to make sure you don’t make him late today.

“I’ve got time.”

You tell him that there isn’t much to report, but he’s not satisfied. After pressing you a bit more, you admit, “Well, I spent a good bit of Saturday prepping for the new DND campaign my friends and I are starting this week.”

“DND?”

“Dungeons and Dragons. You know, with the maps and the dice and fighting monsters and stuff.”

“Oh, right. I’ve never tried it. It seems… difficult.”

“Well, the stats and the lore can be really overwhelming, to be honest, but when you break it down, it’s really just using archetypes and prompts to tell a story together, you know?”

When Erwin still looks confused, you explain the basics: creating characters, crawling dungeons, rolling for initiative. By the time you get done with your crash course, he’s nodding along, looking much more enthusiastic than he was when he walked in. You don’t even know how long you’ve been talking when Erwin looks down at his watch. “Sorry, I’m probably boring you to death.

As he gets ready to leave, he tells you, “Not at all. I can tell you’re really passionate about this.” You’ve already made him a to-go cup, which he nods appreciatively. “Thank you so much. This day just got a lot better.”

“It was nothing. See you tomorrow?”

Erwin nods. “Tomorrow.”  
\--  
On Tuesday, you barely have time to look in Erwin’s direction when he arrives, but he can barely get in the door anyway. There’s a marathon race in the city that ends about a block away, so spectators and runners alike have kept you busy all morning. Petra’s at the register and the line is all the way back to the entrance. Erwin takes his place in it and waits anyway.

When the order for the Colombian crosses the counter to you (Petra graciously drew a little heart on the slip to give you a heads up), you give yourself a moment to greet Erwin before diving back into the next order. He’s able to get a seat at the very end of the bar top, much farther down from where you’re working on drinks. You’re bummed that you can’t even talk to him while you blend iced lattes and froth foam, figuring he’ll leave before the crowd dies down, but an hour later, he’s still sitting there, mug empty and paperback in hand.

You practically collapse on the counter in front of him. “Ok. It’s my turn to be exhausted today,” you say, your voice muffled as your chin comes to rest on your crossed forearms.

“That was quite the rush,” Erwin remarks. 

“Please. I want to talk about anything but coffee right now,” you sigh. You lift your eyes to meet his, thankful that he’s still there to help take your mind off things for a moment while Petra grinds more coffee beans in the back.

Erwin thinks for a minute. “Oh. I forgot to mention. I met your friend Levi.” You nearly spit out your drink. A little bit actually dribbles onto your chin, but you hide it with your hand as quickly as you can. 

“When?” You panic momentarily, afraid Levi was out stalking Erwin because you physically won’t shut up about him.

“Your day off last week. We ended up chatting for a while.” When you slap your palm over your face, Erwin laughs. “Don’t worry, he didn’t tell me any embarrassing stories about you or anything.”

You roll your eyes. “Still, I hope he behaved himself. He’s not the best with people.”

“I’ll say he was a bit blunt, but friendly enough. He said you’re a big reader.”

If Levi was here, you’d strangle him. Whether or not Erwin asked is irrelevant; Levi taking it upon himself to be your wingman is mortifying, but you try to make the best of it. “Yep. I like the classics, mostly, but I pick up a contemporary novel now and then. How about you?”

Erwin ponders. “I’m a serial rereader. I’m always going back to old favorites.” He flips over the paperback on the counter, The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway.

“It’s a nice feeling, going back to a book and knowing exactly what you’re going to get out of it,” you muse. You draw figure eights with your finger in a ring of condensation left behind on the bar top by someone else’s water glass.

“True,” Erwin says. “But I also find that sometimes, when I come back to something I’ve already read before, in a different stage of life, that it hits me differently now. Do you ever get that?”

You think, trying to find common ground, but-- “No, nothing really comes to mind. But I get what you’re saying.”

Erwin snorts, somehow looking incredibly attractive while doing it. “Must be because--” He cuts himself off mid-thought.

“What?” you tease. “What were you going to say?”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Must be because you’re younger than I am.”

It’s the first time either of you has actually brought it up out loud, the age difference between you. You’ve been assuming, based on looks and his career trajectory, that Erwin has a few years on you, but you’re still too shy to ask how many. It seems rude, somehow. Instead, you opt to continue teasing. “I’ll assure you, I have plenty of life experience.”

Erwin smiles fondly. “I’m sure you do.”  
\--  
On Wednesday, everything changes. You’re scrubbing down tables, just starting to think about how it’s already 9am. Erwin should have been here by now. He didn’t mention any meetings this morning, not that he has to tell you his whole schedule, but you’re starting to worry anyway. What if something happened on his commute? What if you offended him yesterday when you poked him about his age? What if--

The bell above the door jingles, and you hear a chipper dog barking outside. Never one to miss a dog spotting, you look up and your jaw physically drops. 

You can tell it’s Erwin purely by his size. Instead of his normal business attire, he’s wearing a black sweat-wicking athletic tee, black running shorts, and bright blue tennis shoes. Unless you were seeing him in profile (because his is so incredibly distinct), you might have to do a double take to recognize his face in a baseball hat and sunglasses. A pair of earbuds dangle around his neck and wrapped around his hand is a red leash with a beautiful golden retriever on the other end. You look back and forth between him and the dog—Daisy, it has to be—until Erwin waves you over with a wide, toothy grin on his face.

You bite your lip and hold up a finger, signaling just a minute before dashing up to the counter. “Hey, Mobs, will you be ok if I step outside for just a second?”

Moblit, who was rearranging the tea bag display beside the register, shoos you away with his hand. “Sure, we’re not busy. Go talk to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my—”

“Uh huh.” Moblit wears a sly grin on his face. He might not say much, but he’s definitely observant. Plus, Petra probably spilled the beans. So you drop it completely and book it outside.

You barely say hello to Erwin before you’re kneeling on the sidewalk to pet Daisy. “Hi girl! Oh, you’re so sweet,” you coo, absolutely melting under Daisy’s friendly gaze. She leans into your hands, letting you rub her around the ears and fluff up all her beautiful golden fur. It’s not until you get your fill of pets that you look up to Erwin, who is watching you with delight. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He offers his free hand to help you up from the sidewalk, but as he’s pulling you up, his wrist goes slack and you wobble a bit. “Damnit, sorry.” 

You shake your head, remembering his nerve trouble. “Don’t worry about it.” You look back to Daisy, unable to keep your hand from stroking the top of her head. She’s incredibly well-behaved, a perfect lady despite the people passing by on the sidewalk. “Oh my god, I love her. Hey, I was wondering, did you name her after Daisy Buchanan?”

Erwin smiles. “You caught me. I’m a big Fitzgerald fan.”

You shrug. “Me too.” Selfishly, you take a moment to let your eyes rake over him. You’ve never seen him like this before. His shirt is tight, showing off every bulge and curve of his toned upper body, from his pecs to his traps. It’s clear he takes incredible care of himself, and what you wouldn’t give to sink your teeth into that muscle. You caught an eyeful of his calf muscles as you knelt to pet Daisy, and his legs don’t disappoint either. But finally, when Erwin takes a few steps to the side to let someone carrying a large box down the street through, you notice a hint of his dick imprint through the swishy material of his shorts. Naughty, lustful thoughts hit you like a freight train—appropriate, because all you can think about now is letting Erwin rail you. The feeling burns brightly between your legs before the sensation passes.

You clear your throat. “So, what’s the deal? You and Daisy playing hooky today?”

Erwin rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, I decided to take a few personal days now that the review with the board is over. They’ll survive without me for a bit, I hope.”

“That’s great.” Erwin has seemed a bit overworked, so you’re glad to hear he’s taking a little break for himself. Just about every time he mentioned his work, he sounded burnt out, now that you think about it. But that begs another question. “So, did you come by for a coffee, or…”

“Um, no, actually.” Erwin fidgets with Daisy’s leash. “I’m taking her to the dog park so I can’t actually stay, but I wanted to come by…” Erwin pauses, and you forget to breathe. Is he really…?

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out for something other than coffee.” His face remains calm, but he bounces the toe of his tennis shoe against the pavement. “Could I take you to dinner tonight? Tomorrow is your day off, right?”

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. You’re sure you look insane, blinking at him with a surprised look on your face until finally, you say, “Yes. I’d love that.”

Erwin smiles and then fishes in his pocket for his phone. “Here, uh, put your number in. I’ll text you for your address and pick you up. How about 8:00?”

You get off at 4, which leaves plenty of time for you to run home, shower, and find something decent to wear. “Sounds great.” You punch in your number and hand the phone back to him.

“Ok.” He looks as surprised as you feel. “Ok, well, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.”  
\--  
When Erwin arrives to pick you up in a black Mercedes, you refuse to believe it’s actually him at first. In the back of your mind, you catch yourself thinking about it often: Erwin has money, but you’d like him even if he didn’t. It takes no convincing, no doubt in your mind at all, but you never want to come across like you’re just interested in that. Once you text him to confirm that yes, that is him parked in front of your apartment building, you check yourself in the mirror one final time before grabbing your bag and heading out to meet him.

As you plop down in the front seat, it’s still as if you’re surprised to see him there. You’re so used to only seeing him in the mornings and when you’re working, it feels like you’ve stepped through the looking glass as you take him in against the plush leather interior. He looks positively gorgeous in an army green henley that accents his broad chest and dark jeans—you didn’t even know the man owned jeans. 

“You look nice,” he compliments as he pulls away from the curb. Compared to him, you don’t feel like you could ever measure up, even though you chose an outfit you love, but you accept the compliment graciously anyway.

The drive is short; once Erwin got your address, he suggested a restaurant not far from your neighborhood. It’s a tapas place with a bar that he says is great, but you’ve never been there before. When you Googled the place to see how fancy you needed to dress, you remembered why: the cocktails cost as much as you’d pay for your whole dinner somewhere else. Still, when the two of you step inside, you’re charmed by the low lighting and jazz music that sets the mood.

It’s a seat-yourself deal, so you follow Erwin to a tall bistro table with two stools, putting a little distance between yourselves and the noisy bar. As you trail behind him, you can’t help but admire how incredible his ass looks in his jeans. Your stomach drops in anticipation, wondering where this night is going to go before you take a deep breath and try not to get ahead of yourself.

He helps you up onto the tall stool like an absolute gentleman before taking his place across from you. He slides a menu your way. “So, the idea here is sort of that you order to share, but if you’d rather have your own entree-”

“I’m fine sharing.” There’s something very sweet and cozy about the idea of splitting appetizers like a real couple. The thought strikes you with momentary panic, oh god, you thought this was a date, but what if he didn’t—

“I hope this isn’t too much for a first date,” Erwin says, a soft look in his eyes. “I just thought you might like this place.”

You exhale. “It was a perfect choice.”

A server approaches your table before there’s time to flirt any more, and you put in your drink and food order at the same time, since you opted for a late dinner. You’re grateful, even though you don’t want to admit that you’re starving. You order your favorite drink but let Erwin take the lead and pick the appetizers. You’re a little overwhelmed by the menu because everything sounds so good. He picks three plates, and it’s not long before the server returns with everything and you dig in.

“So, how was the dog park?” By now, it’s pretty easy for you to make conversation with Erwin without it feeling forced. All those mornings spent chatting have really put you at ease around him, although you have to admit that tonight feels a lot different. For one thing, you’re not working, and you can put your full attention into him instead of making coffees. Now that you don’t have to do anything but enjoy his company while you talk, you find it hard to look away.

“Good, really good. It’s worth the drive into the city, and Daisy really likes it. Hopefully I tired her out enough that she doesn’t destroy the house while I’m gone.” The shadows from the neon lights scattered across the wall throw pretty shadows across Erwin’s nose and mouth as he speaks. 

“A great start to your vacation, huh?”

Erwin tips back his whiskey sour. “Yes. It’s sorely needed, I have to say.”

You wonder if it’s the right time to ask, to test the waters without prying. Even though you’re in public, something about sitting in the dark makes it feel like you’re the only two people here, like it’s safe to bring things out into the open that you wouldn’t normally talk to him about. So you decide it can’t hurt just to ask. “Is it stressful, your job?”

Erwin lets his chin drop forward, eyes cast down at the table. He considers his words carefully before he answers, it appears. “Very.” He says it with a smile, but one that covers a hint of hurt just below the surface. He finishes his drink before he goes on. “It’s funny. I started as an assistant at the agency right out of college, and after I got my first promotion, I thought I had it made. I started climbing the corporate ladder, and the next thing I knew, I was on top of it. I wasn’t doing the legwork anymore, the creative work of advertising. Instead, I was making sure everyone else did their job and sitting in meetings all day. It’s exactly what I thought I wanted,” he confesses, “and now I’m always wishing I had done something else.”

Without thinking, you reach out across the table, letting your fingertips bump against his. You thought maybe it had just been a rough few weeks. But as pained as you feel for him, you’re also touched that he’d be so open with you. “Something else like what?”

One side of his mouth pulls up in a grin as he looks up at you. “It’s silly, but I minored in English Lit. I always kind of wanted to write the next great American novel. But that’s just… a dream, I guess.”

You shrug. “You could totally write a novel if you wanted to.”

“I’m 38, you know. I think it might be a bit too late for me to head down a whole new career path.”

Your guess wasn’t far off, but even though he has more than a decade on you, it doesn’t really change how you see him. “Ah yes, you’re practically an old man.”

Erwin laughs. “Talk to me when you’re almost 40 and tell me that’s not how it feels.”

You slide your fingers farther between his on the table, and you feel his hand twitch against yours, but he doesn’t pull away. “Seriously. I know I’m only 25 and dumb, but I don’t see why you can’t write if that’s what would make you happy.”

“You’re not dumb at all,” Erwin says softly, locking his fingers into the gaps between yours. He stares down where your hands are joined. “I like you a lot,” he says out of nowhere, and you feel your cheeks tingle. “To be honest, I was worried I was too old for you to be interested in me, you know, romantically.”

He’s trying to kill you; he really must be. Your heart flutters as you blurt out, “Hell no.” Erwin looks up suddenly, eyes wide. You reach for your drink with your free hand, but you can barely get a sip down before the two of you erupt into laughter together. You’re embarrassed, but also not, because it’s Erwin. 

“Good to know,” he replies.

You work your way through the appetizers and a few more cocktails, conversation flowing easily throughout the night. He tells you a little more about his job, and you talk a bit about college, realizing that you both graduated from the same university in the city, just a few years apart.

“What if I was a little older or you were a little younger? Do you think this would have happened if we met back then?” You’re feeling warm and loose from the alcohol, but completely comfortable in Erwin’s presence. He’s pulled his chair around the side of the table to sit closer to you, leaning in as he listens intently.

“I think so. I was a little more uptight back then, but you were probably just as sweet, as passionate.” Erwin looks surprised when you click your tongue at him. “What?”

“I’m not really passionate about anything that really matters. After I couldn’t get a job in my field, I kind of just got content at the coffee shop. Not that I don’t like it there but… I’m not sure if it’s my dream job, you know? Like, do I want to do that forever? I just don’t know. I wish I at least had a plan.”

Erwin’s shoulder brushes yours, and maybe it’s the whiskey or maybe it’s not, but he leans in and kisses the side of your head, just above your ear. “Well, you can take it from me that your career isn’t everything. I think you care more about coffee than you think, but you also care about books and video games and DND and your friends. You should keep those things close, believe me. That’s the stuff that will make you happy.”

You close your hand around his again, the urge coming over you to make a move. You decide you’re done fighting it. “And what makes you happy?” you ask.

Erwin smiles slyly, then he takes the bait. “You.” He squeezes your hand as he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his in a soft kiss that almost makes you forget who and where you are. Nothing matters but the sharp taste of him as he presses his tongue against you, parting your lips to lick into your mouth. You don’t care who’s watching. You want him, and you want him now.

Erwin closes out his tab in a rush before leading you out to his car. As soon as he unlocks the doors, your knees hit the leather seat, and you lean over the center console to take his chin in your hands, guiding him back to your lips for more. You feel his breath on your face between every searing kiss until you capture his plump bottom lip between your teeth. You hold him there and suck hard, winning a desperate little pant from him. For a moment, you open your eyes, eager to see his face this close to yours. He’s just as beautiful up close.

You hate to break away from him, but you need more from him than you’re able to get in the front seat of his car. “Your place?” you pant against his mouth, mid-kiss.

Erwin pulls back, breathing just as hard as you are. His pupils are dilated, searching your face wildly—for what, you don’t know. “Yours is closer.”

As badly as you want to see where he lives, he’s so desperate that you would have let him take you in the bathroom of the restaurant if it came to that. He doesn’t want to wait, and you don’t either. With heat pulsing between your thighs, you agree and give him directions back to your building.

The second your door is locked behind the both of you, he pushes you up against it, pinning you under him easily. His huge frame covers all of you as he showers you with sloppy kisses that trail slowly off your lips and down to your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. He bites down hard on that shoulder, making you gasp and kick the door with your heel. You can feel your panties getting damp already, but you’re not even ashamed. His jeans leave little to the imagination.

You push against Erwin’s chest until he backs up, and you go straight for his belt buckle. He pulls his shirt up over his head as you fumble with the metal. The pads of Erwin’s fingers slide deftly under the hem of your shirt, brushing against the skin he finds underneath, making you shiver. As he slides his palms around to your lower back, pressing your hips forward toward his own, you lean back and rip the soft material of your blouse up, tossing it aside.

You leave a trail of clothes in your wake as you drag him to your bed, stopping every few steps to kiss again, to touch a newly revealed bit of skin, to press your body against his and feel him against you. You practically fall into bed with him kneeling over you, bulge growing in his gray boxer briefs. Of course he’s as attractive naked as he is fully clothed. 

Erwin bites his lip as he teases at your inner thighs with his right hand, anchoring himself against the mattress with his left. His touch is feather-soft over your clothed core, and your back arches into his fingers as your head falls to the side. “Is this ok?” he asks, petting you lightly over your panties, surely feeling how wet you are for him already.

“Mmhmm.” Your eyes flutter closed and you press your lips together as Erwin pushes a little harder against you and rubs up and down your folds from end to end. Each time he comes close to your clit, you can’t help but whine for him, pretty little squeaks that have his thighs tensing on either side of your knees. Finally, after what feels like ages of teasing, you lift your hips as his middle finger catches on your sensitive bud, and Erwin mercifully digs in a little more and switches to a circular motion that has you writhing against him.

“God, yes, it feels so good, Erwin,” you whimper as your body starts to shake uncontrollably. He groans when he hears you say his name, and you feel his cock twitch where it’s pressed stiffly against your thigh. Your eyes roll back in your head; you can already feel how big he is, but you hardly have time to think about it before Erwin slows his fingers to a stop. You whine again at the loss of friction only to moan as he pulls your panties down your legs. You kick at them until they end up on the floor somewhere.

Erwin moves to your side just long enough to open your legs up wider, then situates himself between them, his own knees open wide to keep you spread and keep him balanced. He hunches over you, and you grab him by the shoulders as his fingers find your bare cunt, slippery and trembling for him. He runs two fingers between your folds, making lewd squelching noises as he coats his fingers in your slick.

“You’re so wet, it’s amazing.” His voice is breathy and low as he praises you, his words going straight to your aching pussy before his fingers follow. You’re wet enough for him to start with two fingers, and you feel each knuckle pass inside your little hole as Erwin groans with pleasure. “You take me so well. So well, angel.” He pumps those thick fingers in and out of you as you roll your hips, legs squeezing against where he holds you open.

A chorus of oh’s and ah’s tumble past your lips, your own voice out of control with how good Erwin’s fingers feel curling inside you. Every drag rubs against your hole as he plunges in and out. He stretches you slowly before adding a third finger that has you mewling and throwing your head back against your pillow. Your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders as you cry out, then you feel the rough pad of Erwin’s left thumb against your bottom lip. You kiss against it as he presses the finger into your mouth, and you feel him from both ends at once.

“Suck,” he instructs you, and you comply without resistance, wrapping your tongue around his thumb and sucking in. Erwin heaves a shuddering breath. “Good girl. Such a good girl.”

Your eyes open in a flash, and before you can warn him, you cum hard onto his fingers. He fucks you through your high, fighting against your cunt that’s clenching so hard around him. You feel like it’ll never end until he pulls his hands back with a hiss. Erwin holds his right wrist in his left and rolls it, lips pressed hard together.

As soon as you catch your breath, you ask, “Is your hand ok?”

“I’m fine,” he pants. “I just need a minute.” Though his hand must have gone numb, he doesn’t look all that concerned once the initial pain passes. He flops down on his side next to you and takes your hip in his good hand, rolling you over on top of him. “Please, sit on my face, angel. I wanna taste you before I fuck you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You shift together until he’s in the middle of your bed, so tall his feet almost dangle off the end. With your hands on your headboard, you spread your legs and lower yourself over him. You’re still feeling the dull aftershocks from his fingers, so you barely register any embarrassment as he gazes into your pussy before craning his neck up to taste you, just like he wanted.

Using the headboard as leverage, you rise and fall, slowly bouncing on your knees as Erwin explores you with his tongue. His mouth is unbelievably hot, in temperature and fervor, as you ride his face within an inch of your life. Erwin’s tongue jabs at your tightness, digging inside you as far as he can until he needs to come back for air. His lips wrap around your cunt as you lift up, slurping your wetness so lewdly you can’t help but moan as you grind down again and again.

You build to your second high almost impossibly fast, overwhelmed by his prowess as he thoroughly eats you out. As you feel yourself getting closer, you press your body forward, breasts squished up against your headboard, and then you feel it: the sharp ridge of his nose nudging against your clit. You bounce faster, unable to resist the friction of it against your most sensitive zone. You call out his name again, warning him of what he’s doing to you.

One of Erwin’s hands slides up between your legs, two fingers dipping inside you again as he licks ragged strokes against your cunt. It’s muffled but you hear him beneath you, pleading for you. “Come on baby. Can you squirt for me? I know you can. Please, I want you to make a mess. You can do it.” His fingers thrust so quickly you can’t speak, and when he closes his lips around your bud and sucks hard, you explode. You feel a gush of liquid rush from between your thighs—something you’ve only been able to do a few times before. You can’t hold in the scream that accompanies it, and you squeeze your thighs together, skin sliding against Erwin’s now dripping face.

As the shock dies down, Erwin slides out from underneath you, bringing your soaked pillow with him. He tosses it to the side as you settle back down onto the mattress and draw air desperately back into your lungs. He finds a shirt on the floor to wipe his nose and chin on before you see him push down his waistband and step out of his underwear. Your mouth waters as soon as you get a good look at his size: he’s big all around, long and thick with a pretty vein twisting up the underside of his shaft. 

His breaths are heavy as he pumps himself lazily, looking down at you with glazed over eyes. “One more, baby? Can you give me one more while I fuck you?”

You nod madly. You can’t find the words for how badly you want him inside you.

“You’re so good for me. Condom?”

“I’m on birth control. Are you clean?” He assures you that he is, and you believe him. “Then forget it and fuck me.”

Erwin groans and lets his knees fall to the mattress again. You scoot down toward him, all your movements clumsy and desperate. When you reach out for him, Erwin’s hands go soft against your thighs, and he melts into you, leaning down for a series of lingering kisses that take your breath away. When he rises again, he finds the backs of your knees and pushes upward, spreading your legs back and out, leaving you incredibly open for him. “Ready, angel?”

“Please, Erwin.”

He moans, fingers twitching against your legs. He tilts his hips so that just the tip of his cock teases against your overstimulated pussy, but it feels so good, so right even though it almost hurts. You clench instinctively, trying to pull him in, and a few seconds later, you feel him enter you with a shallow rocking of his hips.

Adrenaline rushes through you, and you make sounds you’ve never even heard before as he pushes a little farther inside you with each thrust. Erwin is panting so hard, you can feel his breath on your face even as he hovers above you, pressing down on your legs with those incredible hands of his. At this angle, not only can you feel his platinum pubes brushing against you as he finally bottoms out, but you can see them where the two of you are joined.

He holds still, shuddering and groaning as you squeeze around him; he’s so big you have no choice. It feels like you’re splitting down the middle as he stretches you to your limit, but your fucked-out mind needs, craves the pain. When you can’t stand it anymore, you whine and kick your feet to let him know you’re ready, and Erwin begins to move again.

Erwin lets his jaw hang open and his eyes flutter as he hammers into you, his strokes slow and deliberate. You feel that vein dragging against your inner wall every time he pulls out and slams back in, but it’s the one lifeline reminding you that this is real. This is really happening; you’re not just dreaming about it anymore. Erwin is yours, and you’re glad to let him take you.

Blunt nails dig into your hips as Erwin increases his tempo, huffing as he tries to talk you through it. “You feel so good… You take me beautifully... better than anyone.” He pauses to groan and you swear you feel his cock pulsing inside you. Everything below your hips is so wet, he glides in and out of you despite his massive size. Eventually, his sweaty forehead falls against yours, his body effectively folding you in half, and you scream.

His pace is brutal, building to something you’re not sure you can handle but you want all the same. Every few thrusts, he points his hips a slightly different way until he finds your cervix and taps against it. You can feel that familiar twisting in your gut, the intense tightness that makes you feel a little bit like you’re not going to make it. You squeeze as hard as you can, and apparently Erwin notices, because he asks a little too loudly, “Are you close?”

“Yes.” Your eyes are screwed shut. You can’t feel your legs. Erwin pushes himself back up and reaches down between you, finding your abused bud once more and rubbing those quick circles he must know will make you lose control.

Just before your vision whites out, he asks in a shaky voice, “Where do you want me?” In your state, he’s lucky you understand the question.

“Inside, inside,” you beg, and then the coil snaps. Your legs ache as every muscle tenses underneath Erwin, somehow pulling him even deeper than he was before as you writhe and cream around him. You fist your hands in his hair as he continues to rail against you before throwing his head back and releasing with a sharp, “Fuck!” You feel his cum running out of you as he shoots multiple loads inside, your pulsing walls milking out every last drop.

Erwin drops your legs at his sides before wrapping his hands around your waist, steadying you as he pulls out. He swipes two fingers up through your dripping folds, feeling your wetness one last time before rolling over and collapsing beside you. You clamber over against him as quickly as you can, pulling his hand up to your face and sucking his fingers clean. Erwin sighs and wraps his arms around you, holding you against his chest and stroking your hair.

“Are you… ok?” he asks between heavy breaths, and you nod.

“Better than ok,” you assure him. Maybe the best you’ve ever felt.

You stay curled together in your tangled sheets for a long time, holding each other. Erwin rubs circles into your back and your upper thighs with his knuckles, warming up your muscles that had fallen asleep while he had you pressed down. Soothing kisses are pressed to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck—anywhere he can reach—along with murmured praises. “That felt amazing. You did so well.” You don’t know if he notices, but you let one stray tear fall down your cheek, overwhelmed by not only how good but how complete this makes you feel.

After ages, Erwin uncurls himself from you. He looks at you so fondly, reaching out to brush his fingers against your flushed cheek. “Can I take you out for dinner again tomorrow?”

“How about you just stay for breakfast?”

“You don’t happen to have any of that dark roast in your apartment, do you?”

“I bought a bag. Just in case.”  
\--  
A lot changes in the next five years, but a lot stays the same as well. You, Erwin, and Daisy live under one roof, but you commute into the city almost every day. You still work in a coffee shop, but now, it’s one you own. Erwin gave up his CEO position after his second book was published, but he kept his shares in the company, meaning you have a pretty little nest egg to fall back on, even after he helps you start your own business. 

Recon Coffeehouse is located in one of the city’s hippest neighborhoods. Big tables are available for DND groups to reserve for their weekly sessions, and every Friday, you host video game tournaments. Gradually, you attract your own regulars, including your friends from Scout. Erwin sits at the end of the bar top most days, working on his next story. Being a business owner is a brand new challenge all its own, but you still find the time to work behind the counter at least once a week. Erwin puts a ring on your finger and stays by your side through everything. You’re exactly where you were always meant to be.


End file.
